


i'm feeling young

by granteares



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Snow, Snow Day, Snowball Fight, also features the dog I had them adopt in another fic bc Why Not, patater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 12:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10307876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/granteares/pseuds/granteares
Summary: Just because Kent Parson grew up in New York doesn't mean he has to enjoy the snow.Kent and Alexei get to have a snow day in Providence and shenanigans, of course, ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> To quote my good pal [Mina](http://bisexualseguin.tumblr.com): "its not a surprise considering how soft and floofy u are that u write something this warm ABOUT A SNOWSTORM" and I think that's all you need to know about this fic??

“Kent— Kenny— Wake up, котёнок.”

Kent moaned in protest, rolling onto his other side and away from the voice murmuring by his ear. “I dunno what time it is, but whatever it is, it’s too early,” Kent mumbled, hiding his face in the pillow.

Alexei’s laugh was familiar and warm and he felt the breath lightly against his hair. “Is ten, you are sleeping long enough, is time to be waking up now,” the Russian insisted. “Big snowstorm they are promising come. Очень красивый.”

“Baby, I’m not awake, don’t make me try to understand Russian right now,” Kent whined, because he had never had that kind of talent Alexei clearly did for another language— even if it was out of necessity; he had attempted to gain some grasp of Québécois in the Q and had never mastered more than introducing himself, really, and it was about the same for Russian.

“Very Beautiful,” Alexei translated, pressing a kiss to the shell of Kent’s ear. “Snow is very beautiful. You come look, котёнок.”

Kent reached up to pull the blanket further over him. “You remember I grew up in New York, right? I’ve seen snow before. I’d be fine without seeing any more of it.”

“Is too bad, because you are helping me to shovel,” Alexei replied, and Kent could hear the teasing lilt to his tone.

“Fuck you,” Kent muttered, groaning. “Fine.” He couldn’t exactly tell Alexei no, even though he doubted shoveling was too hard of a task for a 6’4” man with the build of a hockey defenseman. Then again, with the addition of a 5’10” man built like a hockey forward, maybe Kent could get them back inside far sooner, where he could sit under blankets on the couch, curled up with Alexei and the dog, and pretend there was no such thing as _snow_ — which had lost its magic by the time Kent was twelve and realized he hated everything about being cold down to his bones and always having to shovel the stoop and sidewalk of the New York City brownstone apartment he lived in with his mom.

“Спасибо,” he heard Alexei respond— and Kent could translate that, at least, as ‘thank you’, because he’d heard it umpteen thousand times.

However, Kent made no moves to change position or get out of bed, if anything just burrowing himself into bed further. Alexei seemed content with this for a few moments, just leaning over Kent and lazily mouthing at his jaw, until Kent finally blinked his eyes open because obviously he wasn’t actually getting back to sleep. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” he sighed.

Alexei pulled away as Kent sat up, rubbing his eyes, and when Kent looked over he saw the brunette was grinning. “Good! Is time to play in snow!” he exclaimed.

Kent rolled his eyes. “I don’t get how you’re so excited about it. Bet snowstorms are even worse where you grew up… I’d hate it.”

“Нет, Kent, I’m find very nice… very refreshing. Do not mind the winter.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

Alexei smirked, nodding. “But you are still loving me, baby.”

Kent laughed. “Yeah, uh-huh. C’mon, you goon, let’s get this over with.” He pushed himself from bed, simultaneously running his fingers through his hair in lieu of a comb, then going through Alexei’s drawers to find some extra layers to put on top of his own clothing. Anything Alexei owned for himself was baggy on Kent, but not baggy enough that he drowned in it— just enough to be comfortable— and it certainly wasn’t a con that they also, of course, smelled like him. He pulled on his own clothes, threw what he’d borrowed from Alexei over top, stumbling a bit in his still-waking-up state. When he figured he was wearing enough to be fairly warm, he followed Alexei downstairs to the entryway of his house, where they had outerwear hanging.

Kent had had to buy new, _real_ , winter outerwear when he’d started visiting Alexei more regularly. Even if the season was ongoing and he couldn’t get over much during the wintertime, he’d quickly realized that his Vegas-winter-wear wasn’t going to cut it whatsoever. It had been a while since he’d been out east any time but the off-season.

He pulled on boots, gloves, and his jacket, before tugging on his ridiculous Aces winter hat complete with a stupid pompom on the top. Alexei was similarly bundled up, but sporting a Falconers’ beanie, of course.

Kent followed Alexei outside and frowned at the cold breeze that blew flurries in his face. It was still coming down lightly, he realized, but it looked like at least a foot had collected on the ground already and Kent saw other neighbors had ventured out to clear what had settled on the ground before there was double the work to do later. He sighed, pouting at Alexei, who just gave him that loose and lopsided grin that always made Kent melt instantly, and rolled his eyes instead as his lips pulled up into their own smile.

There were two shovels set against the side of the house on the porch, so Kent grabbed one and Alexei grabbed the other, and after a quick debate over who would start shoveling what area, he got to work.

It had been years since Kent had had to shovel snow. He remembered a few occasions of helping his billet family shovel during snowstorms in juniors, but even that had been almost ten years ago. Then, of course, Kent had spent his winters in Las Vegas. Well, he could confirm he _still_ hated shoveling as much as he ever had. He grumbled as he pushed snow off of the steps, clearing them and the walkway that led from Alexei’s house to the sidewalk.

“It’s cold as shit out here,” he complained when Alexei was within earshot.

“Thought you growing up in New York, used to snow and cold?” Alexei chirped, and there was a look in his eyes that Kent recognized well by now as his fucking-with-you look.

So Kent rolled his eyes and huffed, exasperated. “Doesn’t mean I _like_ it. I’m freezing, babe. I’m about to turn into a popsicle.”

Alexei laughed, because he was a merciless bastard. “Sooner you stop complaining, sooner we are finishing shoveling. Need to shovel Mrs. Everett’s house, too,” Alexei explained, gesturing over to the house across the street, where said Mrs. Everett lived alone. She was an elderly, spitfire of lady, but also the kind who brought over containers of homemade soup for Alexei, especially during the season, and made sure his fridge had _something_ in it. Kent remembered the first time Alexei had excitedly explained Mrs. Everett, and how she had learned to cook a few Russian dishes for him— which were admittedly, and understandably, not as good as his mother’s, but the sentiment was all that mattered. In turn, Alexei was always willing to go over and help her with housework when hockey wasn’t in the way. In short: Kent wasn’t surprised that they were digging out her house, as well, and he only nodded his head with a small pout on his face as they finished up Alexei’s home.

After they had finished Mrs. Everett’s house, Kent was making his way back across the street, shovel dragging along behind him, when something thunked against the back of his head. The beanie stopped most of the cold, but he shivered at the small pieces of snow that fell against his neck.

He whipped around, eyes narrowed at Alexei, who was poorly feigning innocence, working too hard to suppress a smile.

“You really want to start a snowball fight with the best shot in the NHL?” Kent accused. If there was one thing he didn’t feel like doing, with the cold officially having seeped into what felt like every last centimeter of his being despite his effort to layer up, it was find himself sopping and covered with snow.

“Am not being such bad shot myself. I’m having many goals this season.”

Kent laughed at Alexei’s comeback, because he _knew_ that. He obsessively kept himself up to date with Alexei’s stats. Besides, he’d always known Alexei was a good player, his goal scoring records impressive for a defenseman. “You’re not goading me into this. I want a hot chocolate and a fluffy blanket,” Kent replied instead.

“Such grumpy old man, Kent Parson. No fun.” Alexei’s stance took on one that Kent recognized from on-ice moments: a challenge, daring Kent to back out of the competition; it was the posture he took whenever he was lingering on the edge of a face-off, ready to jump into the melee and take the puck for the Falcs.

And damn, if being a competitive motherfucker wasn’t something Kent couldn’t seem to grow out of. “First off,” Kent said, and heard the glint of challenge in his own voice, “You are _older_ than me, Mashkov. Second, I’m _so much fun_ , it’s illegal. Third: you’re going _down_.” Kent let his shovel drop where he was standing. The street hadn’t been plowed yet, and Kent had the feeling it wouldn’t be any time soon, considering the other neighbors coming and going across it like automobiles were a forgotten thing of the past.

He leant over, picking up a handful of snow and forming it into the rough shape of a ball (when was the last time he’d had a snowball fight? Probably the Q, he thought, on the occasion a bunch of rowdy teenage hockey-playing boys had an off-day and the snow was the right consistency for it). As he concentrated on pressing the snow together in his hands, another _thud_ of snow hit against his chest, and he tensed for a moment before chucking what he had formed right back at Alexei, nailing him in the chest as well.

They continued like that for a maybe ten minutes, until a few of the neighbor kids caught on to the snowball fight— and Alexei was the kind of guy that always joined in when he had spare time and they were out playing some sort of game in the street, of course; Kent had watched last summer from the porch as the kids had set up a game of street hockey and yelled to Tater to join them, and then Alexei had convinced Kent to join in as well, and they had been awestruck that they were playing hockey with Kent Parson, but they had treated Alexei like he was just another one of the kids (and Kent had forcefully pushed aside his feelings about watching Alexei with children to examine at a much, much later date)— and before Kent even realized it, they were pausing to develop strategies and build defenses, Alexei with a handful of children on one side of the street and Kent with his own handful on the other.

Things turned into a flurry of snow and shouts when one of the kids called to resume the war, and Kent forgot for a moment that he was uncomfortably cold and that his gloves were starting to soak through as the kids chirped his poor snowball-making skills and he was told he was _only_ allowed to throw them because, yeah, he _was_ Kent Parson.

And then suddenly, Alexei’s team plowed through their own defenses, charging at Kent and his kids, and Kent was _trained_ to prepare himself for ambushes like this, body turning and tensing in a way that would make Alexei’s body slamming into his hurt a little less, throw him a little bit less off balance even though he wasn’t on skates, but it was _instinct_ at this point in his life. And sure enough, Alexei’s body connected with his own, and he was so much bigger, so much heavier, that without any boards to catch the impact or the ability to skate away at a lightning speed, Kent fell into a drift of snow with a huff of breath as Alexei knelt over him and— _motherfucker!_ — shoved some snow down his jacket.

Kent spluttered as the cold bit at his skin, trying to censor his curses in front of kids suddenly ten times more difficult. “I’m— I’m gonna— you are _dead_ , Mashkov,” he finally stammered out, pushing at Alexei’s chest with all the strength he could muster, as the big Russian laughed and fell off to the side, lying beside Kent in the snow.

The blonde seized the moment before he even really thought about it, grabbing a handful of snow and sitting up to let it drop down onto Alexei’s face. It wasn’t compacted, wouldn’t _hurt_ , just give Alexei the same cold sting of snowflakes on skin. The bigger man gasped in surprise, bolting back up into a sitting position, and pouting at Kent as he wiped the snow off his reddened cheeks.

The neighbor kids had already forgotten about them, continuing their snowball war with single-minded intensity, leaving Kent and Alexei in their own little world.

So Kent stood up, then offered out a hand of truce. “Ready to go inside?” he suggested.

Alexei sighed, but nodded, taking Kent’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up (not as much of an effort as it sounded, considering Kent _could_ bench more than Alexei’s weight during his workout routine). “Cannot believe you put snow in my _face_.” Kent knew the anger was feigned. It wasn’t as if Alexei had never fallen face first onto solid ice before. A little snow in the heat of a moment of play was nothing.

“You shoved snow down my _shirt_ , so, fuck off,” Kent chirped back easily. “It’s _still down there_.”

“Guess you are just going to have to be getting undressed when we are getting inside,” Alexei replied, all-too-giddy about the prospect.

Kent rolled his eyes. “Nope— No— You are not getting in my pants right now. I’m putting on the fluffiest, warmest clothes you have _immediately_ and cuddling on the couch with Willow while you make me a giant mug of hot chocolate.”

Alexei laughed, but took Kent’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes, котёнок, whatever you are wanting,” he conceded as they crossed the threshold back into the warmth of Alexei’s house.

They walked up to the master bedroom together, unlinking hands when they reached the bathroom— the safest place to strip off their wet clothes without getting snow all over the carpets and making a bigger mess. Kent felt goose bumps rise over his flesh when he was standing naked, and quickly walked back into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of his own boxers before yanking open the drawer of Alexei’s dresser where he kept pajamas. He pulled on a pair of flannel pants, then found a worn and soft sweatshirt. When Kent was done getting dressed, he padded downstairs to the living room, settling on the couch where Willow was already napping. She repositioned herself against Kent when he sat down, and Kent threw a blanket over himself.

A moment later, Alexei walked in on his way to the kitchen. He paused to ruffle Kent’s hair from the back of the couch. “Making hot chocolate now. You are wanting marshmallows?” he asked.

Kent tilted his head back to smile upside down at his boyfriend. “Please, babe.

“Да, be back in few minutes.” And with that, Alexei was walking out of the room.

The warmth seeping back into Kent’s body as he waited had him half-asleep by the time Alexei came back, nudging him to alertness. He had placed the mugs on the end table, and when Kent was awake again, Alexei sat down and repositioned them so that Kent was in between the v-shape of Alexei’s legs, pressed close, and the blanket was over both of them. Willow shifted as well to get closer to the both of them, laying herself half across their legs.

Alexei pressed a light kiss to the back of Kent’s neck before twisting, and a few seconds later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate, topped with a ridiculous amount of marshmallows already melting into it just the way Kent liked them to, was in front of his face. He took the mug with both hands, enjoying the hotness against his semi-stiff fingers.

“Thanks, Tates, you’re the fuckin’ best,” Kent murmured, taking a cautious sip. Hot, but not enough to burn too much. He lowered it from his face and relaxed against Alexei’s chest.

“I’m know, am best,” Alexei replied teasingly, “But thank you. And thank you for helping with snow. Was being fun day. Not so bad, the snow, да?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kent agreed half-heartedly. “I guess it’s not _terrible_. I still like the desert better, though.”

“Will convince you eventually, Providence being much better than Las Vegas.”

Kent laughed sleepily. “Right, okay, Alyosha, if you say so.” He took another sip of the hot chocolate Alexei had made, feeling content.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a totally indulgent Snow Day Shenanigans fic bc I’ve spent my day shoveling snow and sitting inside drinking multiple cups of hot chocolate and baking brownies and having a snow day since I live where Winter Storm Stella hit. (‘:
> 
> I’m gonna say we can just assume Patater are living in a happy world where they are officially out and dating in domestic bliss and therefore Do Not Care if the neighbors see them being a gross cutesy couple.
> 
> But also, the elderly ladies on the block are definitely in love with Alexei and enjoy giving Kent a run for his money.
> 
> Willow is the husky that Kent and Alexei adopt in my Patater Week fic “the winning side” even though I'm not sure this even takes place along the same timeline lmao.
> 
> FYI— "Да" = Yes in Russian and "Нет" = No. I didn't specifically translate those so. Everything else should be explained within the text.
> 
> Hmu on tumblr [@kentvparsin](http://kentvparsin.tumblr.com) yo!!


End file.
